


Best Left Unsaid

by BritaniaVance



Series: Atonement [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Angst, Angst about the Force Sensitivity, Character Study, F/M, Force Sensitivity, Gen, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritaniaVance/pseuds/BritaniaVance
Summary: Dantooine leaves Atton feeling unnerved as it is, and he doesn't need any more unwelcome feelings to make matters worse.





	Best Left Unsaid

"The strongest stars have hearts of kyber,"  -- Chirrut Îmwe,  _Rogue One._

 

* * *

 

 

The wind howled through the tall grass, whistling past them as they shuffled onward, the sky oddly bright. Atton half expected it to be blue, given the weather, but the Dantooine sky was always a muted, steely grey. There were hints of blue, he was sure of it, not that his inner artist was an expert or anything. But still, he scowled as his mind thought of Alderaan and its azure backdrop, miles and miles of farmland, pinpricked by snowy peaks and mountain ridges. Here, it was all grass. Miles upon miles upon _endless_ _miles of grass._ The stuff underfoot was a healthy green, moss collecting along the edges of paths and at the bases of trees, but the rest of it was a dull, yellow-beige. Where Atton was from, that meant _dry_ , and dry meant poor harvests, and poor harvests meant higher taxes, and higher taxes meant cutthroat politics, or at least _decidedly_ more so…

Atton hardly knew how much he felt about _colors_ of all things in the ‘verse before stepping foot on Dantooine and the sorry state it was in. Part of him wanted to ask if the color left once Malak ruined the place, but it was hardly a question worth asking, and hardly a man ever worth bringing up.

He watched Eden from the corner of his eye, finding her too often in his periphery since they left Atris’ wintry fortress. It was something straight out of a holovid, the den of a nefarious villain who only made an appearance in the third act. Despite the tumult of the place and the people there, Eden seemed to settle into everything since then. There was something calming about her, now. Ever since they left Telos, something felt different, as if something about her had finally clicked into place. Which was strange, considering just how much more of her past kept rudely rearing its  ugly and unwelcome head with every breath they seemed to take. Dantooine was the worst of it. Well, so far.

She was in her element. Maybe that was it. The anxiety suited her, the constant questions that needed answering, answers that seemed to require far more effort than Atton was ever privy to exerting in order to obtain. Eden did not do well to idle, and Atton took it she had done nothing _but_ idling before her unfortunate (not to mention accidental) trip to Peragus. If there was anywhere someone might find excitement, Peragus was the last possible place, but Atton had been wrong before. In fact, Atton hadn’t felt more wrong about everything until recently. And, oddly, it didn’t exactly bother him.

Eden’s senses were on edge, as if she expected a ghost to materialize around every corner – but she _knew_ every corner. She silently navigated what otherwise appeared to be a maze of tall stalks, but Eden knew exactly where they were, exactly where they were going. If the Force wasn’t a sixth sense, well, _this_ might have been hers. Eden didn’t use the Force to find her way around the meandering forests and farms. She went on instinct and memory alone. Atton felt it.

She stopped, raising her left hand, indicating that the others stop alongside her. Atton paused.

A moment passed, breath baited. Nothing moved. A look crossed her face, one Atton couldn’t quite read, her face tilted away from his direction. Another moment, and Eden finally exhaled, nodding to herself. She looked back at them, motioning that they remain where they were. No one protested before she disappeared into the grass.

Atton turned to Bao-Dur, his eyes still fixed on where Eden last stood, his watch vigilant. Kreia stewed just beyond him, unreadable as always. Atton fidgeted, never one for waiting, eager for Eden’s footsteps despite knowing full well that she knew how to mask her sounds, how to erase her existence so there was no evidence of her having been anywhere. Atton eyed a print in the mud beneath his feet, a clear imprint of his boot in the dirt. He’d need to work on his ability to disappear in places like these, if the need be. This wasn’t Nar Shaddaa, after all. And Alderaan’s farmland hadn’t treated him well, either.

Before he could contemplate any further, Eden reemerged, her eyes dazed and distant.

“What is it, General?” Bao asked, his voice laced with its usual calm.

Eden mused for a moment longer and glanced back.

“Nothing,” she replied, “I mean, nothing worth looking into, anyway. Just an old spot I thought I recognized from when I-“

 _From when I lived here_ , Atton could feel her say. He could see it in her eyes, that feeling of home, but not quite. It was a specific sense of home that only happened when you came back after being away for too long, finding that things had changed, long enough for forgotten memories to resurface not because they were important but because something was suddenly missing, something so inherent to their creation that it was now a facet of just that – a memory, and nothing else. Atton couldn’t help but think of Alderaan, of Aldera, of his dirt cellar and the alleys beyond it that he still knew by heart, of the city streets, their every nook and cranny. And then there was the maze of farmland beyond, where the city lights did not reach, where the world felt true darkness when the sun set. Dantooine wasn’t much different than the latter...

Bao-Dur nodded sagely, accepting Eden’s answer and moving on as she did, following her lead. Kreia stood still for a moment longer, as if reading the place. Atton could feel her tendrils of thought reaching out for the briefest of moments before touching over him and his own thoughts, his skin shuddering with sudden repulsion.

_Switch the face of the +1/-1 card, the totals are nine-ten…_

This roughly translated to _Not now, witch._ A laugh, a fleeting chuckle, though sinister as it was, erupted from Kreia’s throat as she followed suit.

_Switch the face of the +2/-2 card, the total is eight-eleven…_

For an instant, Atton was alone. Inhaling, he let the cool autumn air steep in his lungs as he soaked in the moment and stood on tip-toe, looking beyond the field of grass in the direction Eden had disappeared to earlier. A low wall jutted out from the hills beyond, or a cave, maybe. He teetered, shifting his weight from front to back, making his mark in the mud with the only pair of boots he wore, all the better to identify him by. If he was going to leave a sign that he had been here, he figured it might as well be clear as day, as if he _meant_ for it to stick - like a ring sealed in wax, a royal crest imprinted on parchment as the Alderaanians still did now as in the days of old. Tradition ran thick, and to Atton’s dismay, so did his memory.

 

* * *

 

_The fire is out. The lady is asleep._ _The wick is low and the candle still hot. Night is nigh and the gambling hall calls. The master of the house expects him at his side, whispering equations in his eager ear, picking the pockets of onlookers while filling the family coffers as he delivers the winning numbers. He snatches bits of conversation from choice men, delivering each word to the master for a sum. A piece of bread. A fresh pitcher of water. A bastard has a duty and his duty is this. The credits are calling, and a boy needs to eat._

With an intake of breath, Atton gasped for air as he woke, the windows to the cockpit dark and lit only with the stars that littered the Dantooine countryside. For a moment, Atton thought he was drifting in space, but it all came rushing back to him in an instant: _The Ebon Hawk sits idly in the hangar at the secret academy, snow drifting silently outside. The holovid plays, showing Eden and her Jedi Masters. The stars spin and they’re orbiting Dantooine. Rings glitter from a distance, but the debris becomes evident as they approach, the ruins of Malak’s destruction. Eden tumbles into his lap as Atton falls into the co-pilot’s chair, a nervous laugh erupting from both their throats as they make excuses, anything to cut the moment short._

With a not-so-sudden hankering, Atton craved a drink. Not for water from the refresher, but a _real_ drink - a _hard_ one. He thought of juma, its neon sheen, the sugary taste of the stuff, its bitter aftertaste as the alcohol made itself known on the back of the tongue. But Atton knew there was nothing of the sort, and not just in their inventory but not for miles around. Thousands of them, if not more.

 _No wonder everyone hates Dantooine,_ he thought, _it’s full of disgruntled Jedi and there’s_ _not a damn bar in sight._

If this were Nar Shaddaa, there would be a cantina on every corner and a convenience stall on every other offering cups and bottles of the stuff. Atton inhaled, held his breath, and exhaled. He didn’t need it, but he sure as hell wanted it.

_Switch the face of the +1/-1 card, the totals are nine-ten…_

Maybe water wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

Atton stood, watching the horizon as a sliver of light began to halo the hills in the distance. Morning. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the pilot’s chair and shouldered it on, comforted by the weight of it.

The sky was still dark, not yet eclipsed and bathed with light. Atton had a few more hours before venturing out with the others again, if he was lucky.

The Hawk was quiet, as to be expected. Nothing and no one stirred. Even T3 hummed softly, plugged into the security console, either asleep or updating his software. With Eden, Atton could never tell if things were being updated as needed or simply because she felt like it. She had a way of fixing things when she was upset, angry, frustrated, or any other emotion Atton could think of, come to mention it. Of all the Jedi stereotypes, avidly channeling her emotions into anything other than confronting them directly was a trait Eden wore well. Perhaps Jedi were meant to work through their emotions by other means, but Atton had a feeling Eden would rather forget she could feel anything at all. He understood the feeling of immediate satisfaction when something made sense, when something with an obvious problem could be solved with a simple solution. Fixing the security feed was easier than reliving her exile, he was sure of it. And making sure T3’s disruptors were updated as a helluva lot easier than reliving whatever memories she still housed here on Dantooine.

Without thinking, Atton reached out internally, his mind canvassing the ship in a singular moment, reading its sleeping energies, and found that Eden was gone.

_Switch the face of the +2/-2 card, the total is eight-eleven…_

Atton sighed, his skin prickling as he retracted his senses and resolved to find solace in numbers again. He hated when he did that. But he figured most everyone did, or _could_ at least. Where else would gut feelings come from? Or so he told himself...

With a cup in hand, filled to the brim with filtered water, Atton wandered the ship, careful not to wake the others but not so careful to keep himself from wondering where Eden had gone. The garage was empty but cold. The ramp was extended, as if someone had just left.

Atton could almost feel the cool grass on his boots as he walked into the pre-dawn, the sky still ink-blue and pricked with stars as the sun threatened swallowing it all, light still barely toeing the horizon. Usually, Eden covered her tracks, but this time there was a clear path in the tall grass ahead. Either that, or Atton would find himself face-to-face with a kath hound. Something not-quite-instinct told Atton he wouldn’t, but he also wouldn’t be one to give himself much credit, nor be too surprised if he was wrong.

The path was clear, its trailblazer intent on getting where they were going. Atton sipped his water, contemplating the sky and the cool air as it whipped about him, his hair turning in the exact direction he hated, against the grain of his natural part, as if the circling of the planet was well-aware and spun on its axis in this precise direction just to annoy him. Atton frowned, eyeing his water. He really wished it was juma, he really did.

Atton sighed, placing the cup on the floor of the garage and descending the loading ramp in earnest now. By the time he reached the end of the path, the sky was pink-white with half-morning and Atton wished he had thought to bring another blaster with him. A lazy thumb grazed the handle of the one at his waist, always at his side, even when he slept. In the dawn light, Atton spied the wall from the day before, the place where Eden had stopped. A pair of boot prints greeted him, as if in jest. Atton scoffed and parted the grass, revealing the cave beyond.

Set in a low hill, a maw opened into the void, a cave mouth peering out of the green. And in the mouth of the cave stood a woman.

“Thought I might find you here,” Atton murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

Eden barely stirred, glancing at him as he approached and assumed the spot beside her, almost as if she expected him to find her as true as his word.

“I haven’t been here in a long… _long_ time,” she finally said, looking the heart of darkness in the eye, bracing herself.

Atton looked at her sidelong. Her half-blonde hair was knotted at the nape her neck, the blonde part twisted in a half-hearted bun, sprouting from the natural black finding its start at the top of her head, a few dark strands framing her face. Her narrow eyes watched the darkness as if waiting for something, the usual green of her irises glinting black.

“And what is it you expect to find here, exactly?” Atton asked, genuinely curious. He thought of a joke, of something that might make her laugh, but it either wasn’t clever enough or Atton was more curious than he gave himself credit for.

“Not sure,” she said, tilting her head like one of the roaming kath hounds outside might.

The sun rose slowly behind them and not a word was uttered, but Atton felt calm, at peace. Eden did not let on that she wanted him gone or that she was waiting for him to say something. Instead, they soaked in the quiet, side by side.

After what felt like an eternity, Eden moved gently, a hand resting on Atton’s shoulder as she craned her chin towards his ear.

“ _Wait for it_ ,” she whispered, wonder filling her voice. Wonder and something else - sadness? Regret?

The sun inched into the sky behind them, and soon the cave was glittering.

“We would pick our crystals here,” she said, breaking the quiet, “Y’know, for lightsabers.”

Atton turned to her now, a question forming on his face, for Eden knew what he meant to say without even asking.

“We’d practice. Our first sabers were usually just for training. No crystals. We’d practice forms until we mastered them.”

The cave glittered like a galaxy in miniature, only instead of stars, each glittering facet of light shone differently whether in color or quality.

“I chose a blue crystal,” she said, her voice almost sad but wistful. “Aiden’s was orange. Not orange like fruit, but orange like fire.”

_Aiden._

Eden had spoken his name before, the same sentiment woven into every syllable as she said it, something Atton could not quite place. She wasn’t ready to elaborate on who Aiden was, and Atton had a bad feeling about the moment he might wrack up the courage to ask.

“Why blue?”

Atton thought of a thousand jokes to throw her way, each one punnier than the next, but the question posed itself without disingenuous mirth before he could filter his thoughts properly, before the words reached his mouth.

“Blue is the color of the warrior,” she laughed as if reciting a textbook, though there was no amusement in her voice or her face, “Master Kavar chose blue.”

This time she spoke softly, her eyes dulling as her mind retreated into memory.

“We’re not supposed to go by color alone,” she explained, “There’s more to it than that.”

The cave grew brighter now, tunnels illuminating in the distance.

“How far does this thing go?” Atton found himself asking, the marvel in his voice taking him by surprise.

“Forever, I think,” Eden mused, almost melancholy, “I’m surprised it’s untouched.”

He turned to her, another question forming on his tongue but he bit it back before he could speak it. _The bounty_ . The bounty on Jedi was high, and the bounty on _her_ was astronomical, but he would bet a million credits that Jedi artifacts had tripled on the black market since they were wiped out. Anything pertaining to the Order would fetch a price worth its weight in gold - however much that stuff was worth in credits now, anyway. If there was anything anyone associated with the Jedi, it was their sabers, symbols of a knighthood more ancient than the Republic or any empire in written memory.

“It might not be that way for long,” she said again, the sadness more evident in her tone now, her eyes wide and wondering as the cave glowed before them.

If anything, Eden had shown nothing but distaste for the Jedi and anyone who called her one, but this was something different, this went deeper. Whatever problems she had with the Order, perhaps they were in practice alone.

Behind them, the sun has risen, and birds began to chirp in the grove beyond the mouth of the cave, their sing-song echoing around them. It was only then that Atton realized it – the humming, like a thrumming engine singing softly beneath them, around them, _everywhere._

“You could always collapse the entrance and hope that no one finds the place,” Atton offered, still entranced by the scene. He wanted to blame it on lack of good sleep, on waking earlier than he otherwise might have, but there was something about the cavern that pulled at him, hooked and reeled him right in.

“I’ve considered it,” Eden sighed, “Though that wouldn’t keep out anyone that wasn’t meant to find it.”

“What do you mean?”

Atton forced his eyes away from the dazzling mass of color and light before him to look at Eden. Her gaze remained, looking straight ahead, her eyes glittering. She smirked.

“The crystals speak to you,” she said, her eyes still somewhere far-off, “They’re supposed to _sing_.”

Atton’s skin grew cold, his eyes returning to the cavern, to every crystal facet fixed in the rock walls. The thrumming grew louder, shriller, like a radio frequency honing in on a signal.

Eden took a step forward, extending a hand until it brushed along the side of the cave wall, her fingernails gently tapping against the crystal.

“I hear _something_ , but-” Eden started, sighing again, “I don’t know, it still feels far off.”

Atton swallowed. The humming swelled and he thought he might go mad. _They sing, she said_ , he thought to himself.   _Well I’d hardly call this singing._

Eden circled around, looking at the vast fields of crystal formations that climbed the walls like vines before settling on Atton as she stood to face him.

Atton’s blood raced, his breath suddenly quick and uneven. He watched Eden for a beat before turning to face the fields beyond the cave, finding the swath of dull beige oddly calming.

“Who knows, sister,” Atton said, pouring every effort into making his voice sound as unruffled as possible. “ _You’re_ the ex-Jedi, here.”

This time, Eden really laughed.

Atton closed his eyes while she still couldn’t see him, breathing in and out, counting numbers faster than he ever remembered having to in recent memory. Usually, the counting came naturally, but in moments of duress he’d sometimes find himself forcing it, pushing the numbers through his head so nothing else could take root in his thoughts and no one else could jut in where uninvited.

The sun was brighter when he opened his eyes again, if he could believe it. _What time is it, anyway?_

“Are… you okay?” Eden asked, closer now.

Atton jolted slightly, as if he had been asleep, feigning a laugh and casual nonchalance.

“Of course I’m okay,” he muttered, “It’s just… hard to sleep when it’s so damn _quiet_ out here,”

“You could turn on the subspace radio or something,” Eden offered, her usual snark returning, “It’s not like anyone can hear you up in the cockpit anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Atton mused, “True.”

He turned round again, facing Eden dead on, thankful his ruse was believable. Or so he hoped.

“It must be weird for you,” Eden mused, meeting his gaze, “Being out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Now what gave you that idea?” Atton replied, sarcastic as ever. Eden rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“It’s a far cry from Nar Shaddaa, I know that,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. There it was again, that ever-pervasive _calm_. Not that she had much to be calm about, but she did seem to settle into situations that were about anything but her.

“You could say that again,” Atton groaned, thinking about the miles of grass and the lack of juma, “But what I can’t say is that this hasn’t been… _enlightening_ , if anything.”

Eden laughed again.

“Enlightening?! Really?” Eden cocked her head, the amusement genuine on her face.

“You have a way of surprising me, you know,” Atton admitted, the truth coming out before he could help it, “Even all this-” he gestured about vaguely, incapable of looking at the cavern directly as if he were trying to stare at the sun, “I don’t know, mystical Jedi crystal nonsense.”

“Glad I could be of help, or provide entertainment at least,” Eden rolled her eyes though she didn’t seem annoyed, taking a sweeping step away from Atton and back into the cave. “Arguably, it would be _far_ more entertaining if I could find this damn crystal.”

“What crystal? Just one?” Atton cringed, hearing the irritation find its way into his voice as he said it. He bit it back and turned around again, looking at the cave as if he had something to prove, and maybe he did.

“I didn’t exactly follow the rules the first time around,” she explained, “I didn’t feel anything special. So I just, I don’t know, picked one. _Any_ one.”

Eden extended a hand, reaching out towards a violet protrusion. Her fingers traced its shape, pausing at every angle, feeling the sharpness of its edges.

“I didn’t do anything _wrong_ per se,” she continued, “I mean, you’re usually meant to find a color that pertains to your area of study, if not vaguely.”

The humming persisted, and Eden continued pacing the cavern. Atton’s hands formed fists, now kept safe within the leather folds of his outer jacket.

“Why now? I thought you weren’t-?” Atton stopped himself, biting his tongue before it could betray him further.

He looked down at his feet, his right boot kicking the dirt of its own accord, as if it might make him appear busy and unconcerned, but it didn’t take Atton long to glance back up at Eden for reassurance. She was smiling.

"Right,  _right_ , the non-Jedi Jedi. I think Kreia has a word for that," she jested, though the thought was bitter at the back of Atton's mind, if not only because Kreia was involved. "This doesn't have anything to do with the Order. It's almost as if... as if I wasn't exactly worthy of a lightsaber when I was a Jedi. Or at least not ready for a crystal that was meant for me. And lightsabers aren't exclusive to Jedi or Sith, or whatever you wanna call yourself, y'know. They can be used by anyone with a connection to the Force. I thought about what you said, about having one back on Peragus, and you're right. Just because the Order took mine away doesn't mean I can't make another one, right?"

Atton wasn't exactly sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. It was Eden's turn to watch her feet, unsure.

"And it's not just that. It's hard to explain," she sighed, "But I feel  _something_. Like something's different, or changed somehow-"

Atton felt her watching him now. His gaze had returned to the dirt, though his attention never seemed to waver from _her._

“I dunno,” Eden laughed again, her voice hollow this time, “Stupid, right?”

“It’s not stupid,” Atton said, almost too quickly, though he was careful not to lift his gaze this time.

“Well, it _feels_ stupid,” Eden muttered. “The Force was almost  like a… a sixth sense, something I kept reverting to and relying on. And when it was gone I kept finding myself looking for it, expecting it to be there, always mildly surprised when it just _wasn’t_. But now-”

Eden sighed audibly, her shoulders slumping as she shrugged to an imaginary someone or to herself. Atton froze, staring at the dirt. _Sixth sense_.

“It feels unfamiliar, like it’s new all over again. I know I feel something, but I don’t know _what._ It’s like… it’s like not being able to follow a scent anymore, but still knowing it’s there.”

Atton’s winning Pazaak game wasn’t long enough for this. The numbers kept repeating, his mind reverting to counting the crystals embedded in the walls when the game dissolved in his mind, hungry for something else to make sense rather than wherever this conversation was going.

“Sorry,” Eden said again eventually, “I know this doesn’t exactly make any sense to you.”

 _Sense_ . Part of it _did_ make sense, and that’s what scared him. As the humming grew louder and more encompassing, a face he’d rather forget threatened to resurface - and were it not for the numbers he kept at the forefront of his mind, he might have remembered her. But the memory was quashed, kept down like food in a near-sick stomach.

“I didn’t always live in a city, y’know,” Atton said, breaking the next bout of silence, surprising even himself. “I was actually _born_ on a farm.”

Eden paused, turning from the cave’s inner tunnels to face Atton again.

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” she laughed genuinely, curiosity clear in her voice. Her eyes glittered and Atton had to look away.

“I know, I find it hard to believe sometimes, myself,” Atton replied, “I didn’t live there for long, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He hadn’t lived there, no, but he did visit with whatever credits he could, when he could… until there was nothing left to come back to.

“I wasn't-”

“You totally were,” Atton smiled, beside himself. Eden smirked in return, and the humming dulled though it remained present, an engine forever running.

“Okay, that was a _maybe_ ... _sort of_ ,” she clarified, trying to swallow her smile, “I’m sure that makes it even stranger, though.”

“Makes what stranger?”

“The quiet.”

Atton considered it, thinking back to the cockpit, to the light of dawn flirting with the dark still clinging to the horizon.

“Maybe,” he resigned, not giving it much thought, but mostly because he didn’t _want_ to. Alderaan hadn’t factored into his thoughts in years and it didn’t need to suddenly make itself relevant again now.

He turned to Eden again, her eyes distant once more, as if lost in memory or focusing one of her other senses. She tilted her head, her eyes darting about the cave as if an answer were written on one of its walls.

“Do you hear that?” she asked in a whisper, her eyes looking at him, each glittering crystal reflecting itself in her irises.

“Hear what?” and this time, Atton wasn’t lying. The hum from before had grown faint, and all Atton could feel was the mounting anxiousness in his chest as he watched Eden, her green eyes looking about the cave in search of something.

“It’s not here, but…” she closed her eyes, pursing her lips. As she focused, the humming grew louder again, and more intense than before, as if there were a receiver installed in his ear and he couldn’t shut it off. A face erupted in his memory, like a flower blooming in his mind’s eye - _grey eyes set in darkened skin, scarred but not scared. She smiled when the life left her, and Atton was the one left out of breath._

Like the memory, the breath was sucked out of him, as if forced from his chest. Atton staggered, his hand reaching out for the rock wall on instinct, and when his hand touched the rough crystal, his mind exploded, pain blossoming before his eyes as his entire field of vision was eclipsed with white light.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Atton paused, exhaling and inhaling as the numbers returned in full force, breathing the life back into him as his vision returned, his head throbbing.

When Atton came to again, Eden was nowhere in sight, and for a moment he was relieved. Regretting not drinking more water earlier, Atton waited until the nausea subsided and his vision returned, still clutching the side of the cavern like his life depended on it. Beneath his hand, a crystal glowed, more than the others. The humming thrummed through him now, its rhythm finding its way to the base of his chest like a second heartbeat.

His head flashed around, looking for Eden, hopeful that she hadn’t seen, and this time he could see her head not too far off. She must have wandered further into the cave. Her head bobbed about, inspecting each crystal facet as she moved onward until Atton couldn’t see her head anymore. She hadn’t seen anything, she couldn’t have. Otherwise she’d be asking him the same question his brain was screaming internally now: _what in the actual hell?_

“Hey, can you come here for a sec?” Eden called, her voice echoing, multiplying as it ricocheted off the walls before reaching Atton’s ears.

“And where is _here_ exactly?” Atton groaned, nursing a temple with his free hand.

“Just follow my voice,” she said, sounding even further away now.

“Oh, yeah, _right_ ,” Atton muttered to himself. The pain was searing, lights still flickering behind his eyes as if he had just been decked in the face. The humming continued, whirring within him like a battery, buzzing almost, and his hand felt hot.

Blinking the pain away, Atton looked at his hand, still clinging to the wall for support. His palm was warm, but pleasantly so, as if he were palming the leather of a pilot’s chair sitting beneath an afternoon sun on an ice planet, soaking up the heat. It had been like that on Telos, once they made to leave the Polar Regions. It was as if the Hawk had welcomed him back, begging that they get the hell out of there faster than Atton could will the damn ship to move.

He almost didn’t want to move now, and focusing on the heat in his hand seemed to steady the pain in his head, and the thrumming in his chest. Light peered out between his fingers, a soft yellow, but warm, like honey. Atton peeled his thumb back, the better to look at it, lifting his index finger as Eden called out again.

“Atton?”

“Y-yeah, yeah just a sec.”

He cupped the crystal now, with only the outer edge of his palm touching its naturally uneven surface. He prodded it with his thumb. It moved.

 _It’s there_ , the Jedi had said, suddenly alive again at the back of his mind, resurrected in his memory though he preferred to think of her dead. _The Force knows you in ways you know it not._ Blood had curdled from between her chapped lips, cracked like stone. His mother hadn’t looked much different in her final moments, though it was sickness that took her, not Jaq’s own hands. He liked remembering that the Jedi was dead for the sole purpose of not heeding her words, so he could forget the blinding light she opened him up to with her final breaths, a feat that took the life out of her and scared the living hell out of him.

With another jab, the crystal came free, falling into his hand. It was such a small thing, and so unremarkable otherwise. A star plucked from a miniature sky, resting in the crest of his hand. The humming dulled again, but it did not stop. This time, it stilled, waiting until it beat in time with his heart and dissolved like white noise, falling away.

“Atton?”

“Has it ever occurred to you to maybe consider breakfast?” Atton found his voice again, the acting coming naturally as he spoke. Whatever unease plagued him moments ago vanished, the heat of the crystal eating it up. He tossed it gently, feeling the weight of the thing as it came back down, rolling and resting again in the dip of his palm.

Atton swallowed, hard, and pocketed the tiny thing, the weight of it shifting from his hand to his hip.

“Well, _I_ had enough sense to eat before I walked out here. As for you though-”

Atton sighed, calmed only slightly though an unknown anxiety swelled beneath his thick exterior. He put on a face, and set to finding Eden’s voice.

“What kind of leader are you then?” he teased, “Isn’t a captain supposed to look after their crew?”

“ _My crew?_ ” Eden was incredulous, though Atton could hear the laughter threatening her tone of voice, “ _You’re_ the pilot!”

_The pilot, the liar, the gambler, the thief._

Atton patted his hip again, still unsure if this was the best idea. Eden could see, she could start asking questions… but the warmth of the thing calmed him almost as much as _she_ did, despite how much he hated to admit it. Eden may have been a Jedi once, and though she clearly despised the idea of it, there was something she was still willing to explore, she still had something to prove. Maybe Atton did, too, even if it was something Jaq had never managed to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, another snippet from my Dark Wars series, most likely a future segment in Out of the Abyss. Writing out smaller scenes like this seems to help with the writer's block, so here we are... Will likely edit again later, so any thoughts, comments, etc. are totally welcome :)


End file.
